Page 18 of A Vegas Crush Collection #2

tread lightly

Talia

Maybe it was a mistake to hire someone for him.

At least, someone so pretty. I mean, those green eyes?

They were like emeralds. Also, what if Ally takes his money and doesn’t really help him?

No. When I spoke to Professor Binnington, he gave her a glowing report, so I could trust in that.

But college students can be so irresponsible.

No, she seems really on top of things, serious about doing a good job. It will be fine. And that hug? She was probably just trying to warm things up, right? I mean, I’ve hugged clients before and it didn’t mean a thing.

Besides, what do I care if Ally flirts with Boris?

It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have said anything about him not sleeping with her.

It’s his business, I suppose. It will be fine.

He says he wouldn’t ever cross the line anyway, so there’s nothing to worry about there.

I just needed to find him someone to help with all his stuff.

I found the person and now it’s on him to figure out their working relationship, right?

My job is to assure Ally does the job she was hired for. All I have to do is try to make sure Boris is protected while he gets his finances in order—the job I was hired for.

He’s a client and it can’t happen anyway.

God knows I don’t want more upheaval in my life.

But he’s really nice and so, so, sexy…

No. Can’t have. Cannot have the hot hockey man. He’s off limits. O.F.F.

I decide to take a power walk around the block to get my head in the right place. I call my best friend, Parker, who still lives back in San Francisco.

“Hey, Tallie.” She uses the nickname only she is allowed to utter.

“Hey, Parker.” My voice sounds glum even to my ears.

“What’s up sister?”

“Just taking a head-clearing walk. Thought I’d check in and see what’s up with you.”

“The dog grooming business is just booming. Been up to the armpits in dog hair and shampoo all damn day.”

“Why do you work there if you hate it so much?”

“It pays the bills as you well know. Dancing is fun but there’s irregularity with the paychecks.”

Parker is a professional dancer with the Presidio Dance Theater in San Francisco.

She works harder than anyone I’ve ever met, and that’s saying a lot because I work pretty damned hard, myself.

She dances about twenty hours a week—more when she has a show—plus takes on all the hours she can fit in at her other job.

She took the gig at Shi-Shi-Shihtzu because they promised she’d be doing social media and events, and she thought that would help if she ever got to the point where she had her own company or studio.

More often than not, though, they’re understaffed and she ends up doing more dog grooming than she ever wanted.

“How’s Sin City?” she asks. “Are you sinning a lot? Please tell me you’re sinning a lot.”

“Have you met me?”

“I have met you. You sexed your hot client. That’s positively sinful and I’m damn impressed.”

“Hot, married client,” I say, groaning. “Definitely going to hell for that; and being a homewrecker is not something to be proud of. I’ve had more than my share. No more sinning necessary.”

“Whatever, it’s a two-way street. He could have told you about her.

Or, better yet, not slept with someone other than his wife.

” She’s right. I know she’s absolutely right.

But there is still a momentous amount of guilt because I should have used my intelligence and not listened to my raging hormones.

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Oh-kay. How’s business?”

“Really good, actually. I’ve got a good base already, keeping me busy. I think I’ll hit Howard’s target of five new clients this month.”

“That’s good,” she says through a clearly audible yawn.

“Money management is boring, I get it, but I have some fun, new clients. Angie is one of those Vegas showgirls who wear the teeny outfits and the big headdresses.”

“Does Angie wear her costume into the office?”

“Ha! No. She looks very normal when she comes in. But she’s making bank. Maybe I should become a showgirl.”

“Talia, I hate to tell you this, but you would probably fall on your ass.”

“Yes, probably true.” I sigh dramatically. “I’m also working with a hockey player.”

“There we go. Is he hot?”

“Irrelevant. I am just trying to help my clients toward long-term investment success. What they look like doesn’t matter.”

“So he’s hot then?”

“He’s good looking, yes.”

“Single?”

“Ugh. Yes.”

“Why ugh?”

“Ugh because I think Boris is a really nice guy. And he’s really cute. And I think sexy thoughts about him sometimes. But I can’t have him because we all know how the last client sleepover went.”

“Sexy thoughts? Like what kind of sexy thoughts?”

I make a noise but don’t answer.

“You’ve got a crush,” Parker accuses.

“Do not.”

“You do too, friend. And whatever. He’s sexy and single. Plus his name is Boris and yours is Natalia. So close to Natasha, you’re nearly the Rocky & Bullwinkle Show couple already. I say crush away.”

“He’s a client, Parker. And it’s irrelevant what our names are because he doesn’t find me attractive and I’ve sworn off relationships with clients. Boris already told me he won’t cross a professional boundary anyway, so the point is moot.”

“Not everyone is Mr. Cheating-Ass, Tallie.”

“No, you’re right. But this is a fresh start for me. I can’t have Howard thinking he won’t ever be able to trust me to keep my hands off the clients.”

“Okay, okay, you have a point there. But tell me all about hot-hunky-hockey-Boris, anyway, because I need to know everything.”

I take a deep breath in and then let it out before launching into my story about Boris.

I tell my friend all about him, about his early rise to the professional ranks, his crummy Russian rip-off investment agents, and his dyslexia.

I tell her I hired him an assistant to help him stay organized and then admit that I’m a little perturbed that the woman hugged him at their first meeting.

“Am I being petty?” I can’t help myself from asking for reassurance. “I’m being petty, right? It was just a hug. I hug clients all the time.” No, I don’t. I really, really don’t.

“You’re being petty and jealous, Crushy McCrushpants.”

“Totally not jealous! I just think he’s really sweet and I think people have taken advantage of him. He doesn’t need one more person in his life trying to get something from him.”

“I guess it’s possible she’s a gold-digger just out to get hooked up with a rich athlete,” Parker says. “But more it sounds like you don’t want anyone else touching this guy if it can’t be you. Maybe this guy is your guy, Tallie.”

“He’s not my guy.”

“How do you know?”

“I just…” I groan and change the subject because I don’t actually have an answer. “Are you going to come visit me soon or what?”

“Are you lonely, my little sexless love bug?”

“Yeah, kind of. I mean, I work in a tiny office by myself. I don’t get much opportunity to get out and make friends.”

“Aww, that’s really sad. I’m sad for you.”

“You don’t sound sad. You sound like you’re laughing at me.”

“I’m not, I swear. And you’re in luck because I’ve just decided I’m going to come on down to Sin City this weekend.”

“Ask and I shall receive?”

“I was already considering it, but I can see that you need me. We’ll go out dancing.”

“Dancing? You have seen me dance, right? And you’re sure that’s the best option?”

“You’ll go out dancing and you’ll like it.”

I laugh at this, shaking my head. “No, you’ll go out dancing and I’ll stand around and look awkward.”

After we get a plan in place, I tell my best friend just how much I love her before hanging up. I really do love her. She’s honest and funny and high energy. She’s way extroverted, which is the total opposite of me, of course, and she pulls me out of my comfort zone when I really need it most.

Like that time I moved to a new city all by myself.

The next day, whilst attempting to remove yet another food stain from my clothing—this time ketchup on my beige linen slacks—I receive my return call from none other than the Russian fixer himself, Mr. Vlad Nechaev.

“Vlad, good to hear from you.”

“Do not say that just yet, little firecracker,” he says in his thick accent.

“What a strange thing to say. Do you have bad news for me?”

“Are you sure you want to poke this bear?”

“What bear?” I can feel my face scrunching up in annoyance as I tap my pen on a notebook. “This is just business. We all want what’s best for the client, right?”

Vlad chuckles darkly. “Yes, I suppose. Well, you can speak with Tolya Popov about Boris’s accounts. Tread lightly, is my advice to you.”

I snort at this. What is this, the Russian mafia? Jesus Christ. “I just want to talk to him about transferring Boris’s accounts. It’s not the end of the world.”

He laughs into the phone by way of a response, clearly amused by me. And I don’t like the sound of Vlad’s laughter at all, especially when the sinister chuckling sends a shiver rolling down the length of my back. Can you say creepy as fuck with a side of revulsion?

“Don’t say I did not warn you, my dear Natalia.”